


What the Seers Knew

by justhuman



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Alternate Ending, Episode: s05e22 Not Fade Away, Gen, Vampire Slayer(s), Watchers, Wes/Faith Ficathon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-08-08
Updated: 2004-08-08
Packaged: 2017-10-29 05:00:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/316094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justhuman/pseuds/justhuman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An alternate ending for <i>Not Fade Away</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	What the Seers Knew

It felt like iron bands trying to squeeze the life out of him, constricting his throat and chest. There wasn't time for Wesley to feel fear when all he could concentrate on was breathing. The fact was that Wesley had also given up fear with so many other emotions in the past week. If he could feel it, fear would have lead to death. While Wesley knew that in all probability his death was imminent, he couldn't be bothered by it--but that didn't mean he was going to it by rolling over and baring his throat. Trying to forget his need for air, Wesley focused on what magic he had and the knife in his hand.

"Did you really think you had a shot at this? I can bend the very fabric of reality to my will. Your parlor tricks could never kill me, _boy_."

"Then I guess," Wesley gasped for air and then continued, "We'll just have to do this the old fashion way." The knife unfolded and he struck with what energy he had -- not enough.

"Yes, I suppose we will." Wesley watched the long dagger fly off the wall and towards Vail. He put everything he had into gathering his magic into his hand. With his eyes he followed the blade, aimed for his gut, remembering vividly what it felt like to be shot, knowing that he'd be too late. This angered him off more than anything else--he didn't want to fail, _couldn't_ fail.

At first, he had no idea how the crossbow bolt ended up in the middle of Vail's heart, if that was indeed where Vail's heart was. The resounding clatter as the weapon Vail had been holding, fell to the floor should have been reassuring, but Wesley didn't have time to focus on it--mustn't fail. Instead he let the ball of energy fly and the magic bonds unraveled, dropping him to his shaky feet.

"Nice shooting." The familiar voice made Wesley turn. "You too with the magic, Wes."

"Faith?" Wesley took a moment to gather his breath and look at his savior. Every lecture on verifying that one's enemy was actually dead, a sound idea confirmed by every horror film ever made, raced through his head. There was still a mission. "No time to talk. Cut off his head."

"Hell-o. Maybe a little _thank you?_ " Faith rolled her eyes and her hips as she casually started across the room.

Seeing Vail stir, Wesley reached for the weapon on the floor, but Faith was rushing past him, snatching up the curved blade and landing a half-blow before she was blown back by a magical blast from Vail. There was no hesitation or thinking on Wesley's part. Before Faith had even hit the ground, Wesley had drawn his gun and pumped three shots into Vail. Not wasting any more time, Wesley grabbed the matching dagger from the wall.

"Faith! Are you all right?" All Wesley's attention was focused on Vail, as he severed the head from the body.

"Is it dead?"

"Yes, and I'll assume since you're talking that you're still alive."

Faith gave a mirthless laugh. "And leave without the thank you for saving your sorry ass?" She was standing next to him now, studying the body.

"Why? How?" The questions were coming out of him even though he knew that they really didn't have the time. There was something about Faith--no, Wesley corrected himself, there were many things about Faith and their history together--that set him on edge. Over the years he had gained a good deal of confidence in his abilities. Faith didn't diminish that or make him think less of himself. Instead, he felt on his guard like an animal handler faced with a half-domesticated predator--too easy to let down one's guard at the wrong moment.

Faith strolled towards the dining table, picking up a fallen napkin. "Well the why is because Cleveland got old, and Buffy doesn't get to tell me who my friends are." Coming back to Wesley, she moved the napkin towards his face.

Instinctively Wesley leaned back. "What?"

"Don't be an ass; you're bleeding."

Reaching up to the sore spot near his left temple, Wesley felt the dampness and brought his hand down to inspect the blood. He wanted to ask about Cleveland, about what Buffy had instructed--that was another thing about Faith, she was distracting. "It's not important; I need to get to Angel." Wesley went to turn but was stopped by Faith's grip on his arm.

Apparently not believing she needed permission, Faith started wiping the wound. Arguing with her would doubtlessly take more time than letting her play nurse. It was rather odd, because Wesley was more used to being on the other end of this type of ministration, and somehow he doubted that Faith was ever really the caretaker in these situations--something else disconcerting, something else distracting.

There was some space between them, but Faith continued to hold him with one hand, as if she thought he might try to leave again. It brought an intimacy to the situation that neither of them seemed comfortable with.

"The how is another kind of strange," Faith continued. "I went to you're new office--which by the way is in the process of becoming a big pile of junk"

"Excellent." Despite his urgency to get to the alley and meet Angel, Wesley relaxed for a moment and let some of the reflected heat of Faith's body warm him. He hadn't even realized how icy cold the incident with Vail had left him.

"Outside I ran into this vamp chick. She started bitching that Angel fired her-"

"Harmony?"

"Yeah, something like that. I recognized her; she used to hang with Cordelia back in Sunny D. Anyway, I convinced her that it was in her best interest to tell me where the hell you guys were."

"Did you stake her?" Wesley wasn't sure he had a preferred answer, but he was curious either way.

"Hello, telling a story here."

Wesley sighed and then winced as Faith hit a tender spot with the cloth. Without being asked, she backed off the pressure and continued to clean the wound.

"Anyway, she swore up that she didn't know where any of you were. Then she ripped a page out of her notebook and told me that Angel had been keeping an eye on this place for weeks. I was going to stake her, but then she pulls out this letter of recommendation from Angel -- Evil, good secretary, but still evil."

"I suspect Angel was in the building. You should have gone to him." Wesley felt Faith's hand behind his neck, forcing him to look down.

"Based on what little I saw left of the building, I was really hoping none of you were in it. Besides, I think saving your life must be worth something-- _like maybe a thank you_ \--so my time wasn't wasted." There was something in her eyes that Wesley wasn't used to seeing there. He had seen hate, indifference, even grudging acceptance, but now he was seeing something almost friendly, and it made him uncomfortable.

"Yes." It was almost like a compulsion not to offer his thanks. "I need to get to Angel. You should leave LA; you have no idea what we've committed to."

Thankfully, she released him, and Wesley turned to leave. A few seconds later, Faith was at his side, having retrieved her crossbow.

"Faith!" Wesley stopped and glared at her with every ounce of authority in his body--immediately he wondered why the hell he thought that might work.

"I'm going with, and you're wasting time arguing with me."

A new voice entered the conversation. "Shall I dispatch this intruder, Wesley?"

Both of them turned to stare at the newcomer, Illyria.

"Yo, Fred -- new 'do, new attitude?"

Stepping between them, Wesley made introductions. "Faith, this is Illyria, an ancient demon that now inhabits Fred's dead body. Illyria, this is Faith; she's a slayer and our ally."

Apparently satisfied by the answer, Illyria stepped past them. "Is the wizard dead?"

"Creepy." Faith's voice was a stage whisper, not hiding her discomfort.

Grabbing her arm tightly, Wesley looked down into her eyes, once again trying to exert authority that he did not have. "Faith, she was once a god and can knock you into next week. Don't." He spared a moment to that his insistence was rather strange -- if Spike could make a reasonable showing sparring with Illyria then certainly Faith could do the same. It seemed odd that Wesley cared. Despite the number of times in the past that he had contemplated revenge on the woman, Wesley didn't want to see her hurt. There was also a damnable part of him that chivalrously thought it was still his job to make sure it didn't happen.

She glanced at his hand impatiently, and he knew that he couldn't hold her. Then she looked at him, rolling her eyes and nodding as she shrugged out of his grip. Her bare arm had burned in his hand. It wasn't any abnormal amount of heat from her; it was because he was still ice cold. For a brief moment, Wesley wondered why he was still alive, and then he shoved the thought out of his head that he should be dead--that he hadn't expected to leave this place alive.

That he had expected the continual pain from Fred's loss to be gone.

Illyria approached them, her directionless stare giving nothing away about what might be lurking under the surface. "You are hurt; I should bandage you, as you did for me earlier."

"Faith has already given the wound more attention than it deserves right now. We need to get to Angel." Wesley stepped back as the women sized each other up.

"You are not human. What are you?"

Sighing, Wesley reached for one of the pair of knives that had almost been the cause of his death. They didn't need this but apparently they were going to have it.

"I'm a slayer; Wesley's my watcher," Faith said, taking a step into Illyria's space.

Wesley nearly dropped his weapon.

"Wesley is my guide."

Wesley, who was rapidly becoming frustrated with the entire situation, assessed the two women and the challenging stares they were exchanging.

"Yeah, well get this. He's my Watcher, has been for years. We're destined to be a team against the forces of evil." Faith had crossed her arms and cocked her hip, insolence written across her face.

"I am not a Watcher," Wesley said. "And since when-"

"Bullshit." Ignoring Illyria, Faith turned and went stood toe to toe with Wesley, glaring up at him. "Just cause they fired you doesn't mean that they changed who you are. Did you ever see the ceremony where the seers try and pair up Slayers and Watchers?"

Wesley found himself staring open mouthed at her. "Yes, of course I know about the ceremony. I'm not sure what you may have seen, but in the past the seers would pick out about a dozen suitable candidates from the list of potential Watchers. Remember, it used to be many of us and only one of you." Waves of heat were coming off her body. Wesley was very tired of being cold.

"Okay, the other eleven guys, now dead."

"Faith, when did you decide you need a Watcher?" The conversation was ludicrous especially considering where they were and where they needed to be. Wesley tried to turn to go out the door, but Faith grabbed his arm, swinging him around to face her.

"I don't _need_ a god-damn thing. I want a Watcher. I _want_ you."

Wesley was at a loss for words. He looked anywhere but at Faith. Illyria was studying them, expressionless.

"Illyria, go to Angel. I'll be right behind you."

"I follow the orders of no living creature-"

"Then go wherever the hell you want. Just get out of here."

Faith gave Illyria a wave and a smile. "Toodles."

For her part, Illyria looked mystified at the gesture, but after a moment she turned and walked out of the room.

"Faith, we left those lives behind long ago, and I suspect in a few hours I'll be dead anyway." Wesley fervently wished the cold would go away.

She planted both her hands in he middle of his chest, where they burned like brands. "I've fought the god-damned good fight beside a lot of people this year, and you know what? Fighting with you is right, no matter how fucked up our relationship is. Hell, maybe it's _because_ our relationship is so fucked up. They're all babies playing at this game, whining at me to be nicer, to cut them some slack, to be their god-damn mother." Faith looked down and Wesley could see she was biting her lip. There was something more to that, but he didn't have time to decipher it.

"Faith, we're not good for each other."

"Here's a thought, Wes. As destructive as we are to each other, we're both a helluva lot more destructive to ourselves. And hanging out with people that are good for us doesn't help."

Fred's face filled Wesley's mind, but he said. "That's not true."

"Yeah, it is. They let us fool ourselves for a while--make us think that we belong, dull our instincts, make us believe that we're people we're not. It's not worth the look of horror and disgust you get when you have to go all out--do the hard things."

 _"Charles doesn't have it in him. It's part of what I love about him."_ The painful memory of a conversation in a truck, stabbed Wesley in the gut.

Wesley looked over his shoulder in the direction that Illyria had left. There was no one there. "I loved someone and now she's dead. Don't ever tell me that she didn't love me back." The cold was nearly painful. When Faith's hand tried to stroke his chest, Wesley stepped back. "Stop. I don't want your sympathy."

"You want the pain to go away. I get that." Faith tucked her hands in her back pockets, glancing around. It was at moments like this that it was clear how much her tough exterior covered up a fair amount of vulnerability. "Wes, I also get when a hug feels more like a straightjacket. When you need everything to be right with yourself before anything can be right anywhere else, so you fight. It doesn't matter what battle; anything to let it out."

For the first time, or perhaps for the first time that he was willing to admit it, Wesley saw himself in Faith.

"Doesn't the world ever forgive us?" Wesley wanted a drink; no, he wanted a bottle, several. The emotions charging through him were unbearable and all he wanted to do was drown in the numbness. Why was it so cold?

Faith gave a short laugh, shaking her head. "I don't know, but I know it's easier to live with it when you don't have to do it alone--no questions, no condemnations, no expectations."

"Is that what we are to each other, indifferent partners?"

"We maybe a lot of things, but I don't think indifferent is one of them. Maybe it's what the seers saw."

Wesley nodded. "I'm leaving now to go to Angel. It's who I am, what I'm meant to be doing. You can come if you don't mind certain death."

"I was going to go anyway, but it's nice of you to offer." Faith picked up her crossbow once again, a wry smile on her face.

Adjusting his own weapons, Wesley nodded. "I have this terribly selfish desire not to be cold right now. If time wasn't a factor, I think that I might try and slam you into a wall or the floor and suck every ounce of heat out of you, pretending that you were someone else."

"After we're done with the battle, and we kick ass and survive, I might just let you do that. I might knock out all of your teeth too, hard to say. But, if I do let you touch me, keep in mind that I might be dancing with my own ghosts."

Wesley nodded, and for the first time all night, the weapon didn't feel cold in his hand.

~end

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Wesleysgirl for the beta.
> 
> Written for Lady Galadriel in the Wes/Faith Ficathon run by Lovesbitca. Challenge requirements at the end.Faith to be a post-redemption Faith (after Wes breaks her outta jail, so post s4 Ats/post s7-Btvs), Wes with a gun (but not shooting Faith, maybe him protecting her) -- No rape, no torture


End file.
